


That Cement Is Just There For The Weight, Dear

by LadyChi



Series: The Soundtrack of Our Lives is an Old Jazz Record [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyChi/pseuds/LadyChi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where: Darcy's got a bit of a headache, Bruce makes a bit of an appearance, Bucky's just a bit broken, Loki's just a bit tortured, Thor's just a bit hopeful, Jane's just a bit exhausted, Tony and Pepper are just a bit adorable, and oh yeah. Someone says the three little words that mean the most.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Cement Is Just There For The Weight, Dear

**Author's Note:**

> So I admit that I referenced at least two or three things in this story. The first is a fandom-created character named Dasha. Search #sovietsuperfamily on Tumblr to find the folks who created her. I borrowed the name, thinking that if Dasha the fandom character, who is adopted by Nat, was named after someone as influential in Nat's character as the Dasha in THIS story was, how awesome would that be?
> 
> The title is from a lyric in the jazz standard "Mack the Knife".

Darcy woke up the next morning and shifted under the weight of Steve’s arm. His breathing was slow and deep and even. Darcy rolled over and pressed her face into his chest and felt his heartbeat through her cheek, and then his hand through her hair as he realized she was waking up.  
  
“How are you feeling?”  
  
“Like I took a pretty good conk to the head,” Darcy said, still not opening her eyes. “And good morning to you, too.”  
  
Steve chuckled, and the rumble moving through his chest tickled her cheek. “Good morning. Are you going to actually open your eyes, sunshine?”  
  
“Pfft. No. Are you kidding me? The way my head hurts? I’m going remain very, very still and try not to jostle anything.” Darcy snuggled in closer. “And I’m going to use my very favorite human blanket to facilitate a day of doing nothing.”  
  
Darcy’s cell phone rang. Steve rolled over and silenced it.  
  
And then Steve’s cell phone rang.  
  
“Oh my _God_ ,” Darcy said, putting her hands over her ears. “Steve. Make it stop.”  
  
“Hello,” Steve growled into the phone. Or as close to growling as he got without provocation.  
  
“Rogers. Put Lewis on the phone,” Darcy could hear Tony say.  
  
“Darcy’s still...”  
  
Darcy reached out a hand. “Just hand it over, Steve. He’ll never shut up otherwise.”  
  
“First of all, Lewis, I want it to be absolutely clear: you are more than welcome to take the day off.”  
  
“Gee, thank you,” Darcy said. “Pepper already let me know, actually, last night, via e-mail, so...”  
  
“The thing of it is. Dummy can’t find the coffee.”  
  
“Dummy can’t... what?”  
  
“Dummy. He can’t find the coffee. I’m programming him to take over some of your duties, you know, so you can focus more exclusively on catering to my every whim...”  
  
“Oh, joy.”  
  
“And he can’t find it. Lewis, I demand to know where you’ve snuck the Keurig filters.”  
  
“Oh, for _fuck’s sake_ ,” Darcy said, opening her eyes, tossing off the covers. “I’m coming in. Don’t let that dipshit of a robot --”  
  
“Hey!”  
  
“ -- loveable though he may be, anywhere near the kitchen. He can’t even discern when he’s supposed to use the _fire extinguisher_ , Tony. All he has to do is recognize _actual flames_. And you’re going to program him to do something as complex as make coffee? Your whole tower will fall down.”  
  
Steve was quietly getting dressed next to her as Darcy started throwing off her pajamas while she railed at Tony, a smile on his face. Once she was done, she tossed the cell phone on the bed and slipped into the bathroom to start doing damage control.  
  
“What are you smiling at?” Darcy asked, rolling her eyes as she attempted to cover her very impressive bruise with concealer and foundation.  
  
“Nothing. I just... think I may be in love with you. That’s all.”  
  
Darcy peeked out of the bathroom, her half-naked torso completely obvious. “Someday, Steven Rogers, you will say something seminal in our relationship while I am wearing an _actual_ bra. And that will be a glorious day.”  
  
Steve laughed, slipping into a white t-shirt and cargo jeans.  
  
“I may be in love with you too, by the way,” Darcy muttered as she came up behind him and pressed herself to his back, kissing his cheek.  
  
“I really, really want to stay in bed and do nothing with you all day,” Steve said in a low voice, whirling around, pushing her towards the bed insistently. “I mean, I know you’re in pain, but... wow.”  
  
He slipped a thumb across her nipple and kissed her deeply. She still hurt all over. But she was starting not to care. “Steve, really, I...”  
  
Darcy’s cell phone rang again, stopping both of them cold.  
  
“Tony,” Steve sighed as Darcy flipped open her phone.  
  
“Stark, what do you want?”  
  
“You sound out of breath there, Lewis. Was I interrupting?”  
  
Darcy rolled her eyes.  “What do you mean, are you interrupting? Do you think I was just out running the New York City Marathon or something? No. No I was not. And you have the worst timing of anyone I know.”  
  
“With a concussion, really? Well. Go you, Lewis.”  
  
“Oh my God.”  
  
“Really did not mean to bother you. I’m just going to sneak over to the kitchen and open the pantry. We’ve got a pantry, right? Some sort of... storage facility for dry goods?”  
  
“No. No. Do not open the...”  
  
“Don’t worry about me. Dummy and I perfectly capable of managing a cup of coffee.”  
  
“Tony. I’m serious here. I have that machine calibrated perfectly and if you touch it...” Darcy started to go through her underwear drawer, hopping into panties and hooking a bra while she continued to berate Stark. She was dressed and ready to go in a manner of minutes, closing her phone with a snap. “Steve?”  
  
He looked up from where he was lacing his boots. “Yeah?”  
  
“What are you doing?”  
  
He shrugged. “I’m going to do some work in my office. Thought I’d walk over with you.”  
  
“You’re never in your office.”  
  
“Today I am.”  
  
“You don’t have to,” Darcy said, but a smile was crawling over her face. “I am still completely capable of making it three blocks by myself.”  
  
“As you demonstrated clearly last night,” Steve said with a nod, “but you also showed  that you’re not an easy target, and so my concern is that they don’t send the new agent next time.”  
  
Darcy opened her mouth and closed it. “You think they’ll try again?”  
  
“I think so. And I happen to have some free time this morning, so... can’t a guy walk his girl to work anymore?”  
  
“Alright.” Darcy took his outstretched hand. “I do, by the way. All the way love you. Not may. Not maybe. Definitely. If what you say is true then... I want you to know that for sure.”  
  
“Definitely love you, too.” The apartment closed with a click behind him.  
  
  
  
**  
  
There were six steps from the corridor to the inside of James’s cell from the doorway that Natasha stood in. Six impossible steps.  
  
The thing about it was -- and this was the thing that really burned in ways few things had -- was that she had gotten _used_ to missing him. Used to that sort of low-level, constant ache. Maybe a few sharp pangs now and then, when the face of a stranger would call to mind a half-remembered moment, but now he was here and it was like the scar tissue was open. And the memories she’d locked away were pouring through the tiny hole in the dam.  
  
**  
  
 _Natasha kept watch. There was a row of cots from one wall to the other. They had been filled with girls who, like her, had been sold to the government. Girls with skills, potential. Over the past nine months, they’d slowly disappeared. There one day, gone the next. Dasha, Iliana and Natasha remained. And they planned for it to stay that way. So Natasha took the second watch, after Iliana had lain awake, completely aware, for two hours, and shook her out of a very light slumber._  
  
 _Natasha never really slept, these days._  
  
 _She held her knife loosely in her hand. She’d made it herself, painstakingly, from a spoon. Hiding it from the handlers and the other girls had been important._  
  
 _When the door creaked open, Natasha no longer had an instinct to sit upright, or to grip the knife tighter. She breathed slow, and deep, and waited._  
  
 _They went for Dasha. Of course they did. That she had survived as long as she did had been frankly surprising. There was a goodness to Dasha. A fundamental something that they couldn’t wipe out, couldn’t erase. There were angels in her pure blue eyes._  
  
 _But she was also, truthfully, good. She was light on her feet, good with a knife, charming when the situation called for it._  
  
 _Natasha didn’t like many people. Dasha, she liked._  
  
 _Her eyes snapped open at precisely the right moment. There were three guards, and one of her. She was sixteen years old._  
  
 _A swift kick to the right, perry. Flip over the bed and stab upwards. Blocked? Just fine. Side-sweep. Up and over the bed for a better vantage point, better field position. Twist the gun out of the way, break the wrist. Incapacitate with a blow to the head. One down. One on her left, one on her right._  
  
 _The one on the right was limping. Good. Easier prey goes first. Throw Iliana’s book. Wake her up. Good. Help, at last. Dasha is now awake, too. They take the one on the left. The knife gets broken when he gets a lucky blow. Don’t need it. Bare hands murder is as good as any other kind. One: solar plexus. Two: upper chin. Three: blow to the balls. Four: Snap the neck._  
  
 _The whole thing took maybe thirty seconds. Natasha turned to help Iliana -- the alarm had gone off, they wouldn’t have much time, when suddenly the corridor flooded with lights, and men rushed the room. Too many men._  
  
 _Natasha’s brain went into overdrive. She shoved Dasha behind her, her heart pounding in her throat. Iliana cut and run -- going up, trying to get out, she was a fool, there were guards everywhere..._  
  
 _Natasha felt the bullet hit her chest. Instant pain. Instant pressure. No way to breathe._  
  
 _She turned her head, and saw Dasha take the bullet that would end her life._  
  
 _And then there was blackness. But she heard a voice, over and through its oppression. “That one. She’s the one I want.”_  
  
  
**  
  
“I just want you to know, that was a pretty decent thing you did for Darcy this morning,” Steve said, entering the lab without fanfare. Or JARVIS alerting Tony of an intruder, either. Which was a bug which would have to be investigated.  
  
“I do not know of what you speak.”  
  
“Calling her. Making her come in this morning. Making her feel competent and needed. Keeping her moving.”  
  
Tony was amused. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed this, Cap, but she is competent, and she is needed.”  
  
“That may be so, but not for coffee, and she might notice that later and kill you, but it was good. It was what she needed. So... thanks. She needs something different from me. But I liked seeing the look on her face this morning when you called. I really did. So thank you.”  
  
Tony occasionally saw what had so enraptured his father about this guy. Very occasionally. But such a thought was perilously close to sentimental, and so Tony shifted away from it. “You’re welcome. Meanwhile, I’m sorry for the red, white and blue balls you’re currently sporting.”  
  
Cap laughed. “I’m sure you remember what it was like to be young, Tony. It’s not the first time I had to wait for what I want. Probably won’t be the last.”  
  
“Wait... did you just... Wait. Did you just call me _old_?” Tony’s mouth gaped. “Is that what just happened here? You know you’re like... 45 years older than me, right?”  
  
Steve waved and headed out the door.  “See you, Tony!”  
  
“Hey, no... come back here, man, that’s just not...”  
  
The door closed. Tony crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not old, right, Dummy?”  
  
The robot had the gall to look the other way.  
  
“Well, you can’t deny I’m aging with _style_ ,” Tony said, chuckling to himself as he devoted his attention to his workspace, putting Cap out of his mind.  
  
**  
  
Natasha hadn’t moved in at least five minutes (as long as Darcy had been watching her), but Darcy was aware she was perfectly aware that Darcy was standing behind her.  
  
“You going to go in?” Darcy said eventually, speaking lowly and evenly. Natasha might have been aware of her, but Darcy had learned from Steve and from Clint to a far lesser extent that... there was a certain look, a certain posture, that all of them had that you treated with extreme caution.  
  
Natasha pushed off the wall and blinked, turning to face Darcy.  “It’s not a good idea.”  
  
“So you’re just going to stand here, doing... what, exactly?”  
  
Natasha shifted. “Thinking.”  
  
“Ah, really? Because it looked liked maybe you were trying to blow shit up with your mind.”  
  
Natasha’s mouth twitched. “No, not that.”  
  
“It’s just that you look a little intense, and I think the guys in Medical have been drawing straws to see who has to walk past you to give Barnes his food, so...” Darcy laid a hand on Natasha’s arm, gently, afraid Natasha wouldn’t take it very well. “Are you okay?”  
  
“I should be asking that of you,” Natasha said, and Darcy could practically see the effort it took her to remember pleasantries.  
  
“Nah. I’m solid gold,” Darcy said, waving off Natasha’s concern. “Honestly I’m getting a little tired of talking about my headache, so.”  
  
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you -- or forgot, actually, that I should... You did exactly the right thing in the alley. Another ten, twenty seconds, and there’s a good possibility you might have taken him out yourself.”  
  
Darcy picked at the cuff of her sweater sleeve. “Ah, thanks.”  
  
“I will allow the medical team to do their job,” Natasha said, straightening, “and pay some attention to mine, as well.”  
  
Darcy nodded. “Probably a good idea. I’m going to down there -- say hello. Do you want me to pass anything on for you?”  
  
“I have nothing I need to say to him. Yet.”  
  
**  
  
“So are we going to start seeing more of you around the Tower, Cap?” Pepper asked, startling Steve in his office.  
  
“Pepper!” He rose to his feet. “Come on in! I’m sorry, I’ve got some papers on the chair here...” He moved too quickly for Pepper to protest, sliding his pile of reading over to an end table.  
  
“I just got in, and when JARVIS let me know you were here, I thought I’d stop in and say hi. Fascinating,” Pepper said, seeing _Guns, Germs and Steel_ on the top of his reading pile.  
  
Steve flushed and shrugged. “I missed a lot. The tendency is to gloss over the details and give me the ‘important stuff’, which, as it turns out, is sometimes not the important stuff at all. I don’t need to sleep much, so... I read. Then, you know... I get all of it. Or as much of it as I can absorb.”  
  
“JARVIS has access to a lot of resources that you won’t find anywhere else,” Pepper said as she sat, “including Howard’s notes and some of his personal journals, if you’d ever like to take a look.”  
  
“Ah... thank you. I’d have to think on that one for a while, ma’am. I don’t want to invade Tony’s privacy.”  
  
Pepper nodded. “You know, I don’t think I’ve been in this office since we handed you the keys. I like what you’ve done with the space.”  
  
“I, uh... just throw stuff up on the walls that I like.” Steve fought the urge to fidget. “Darcy calls it bachelor chic. Whatever that means.”  
  
“That was the other reason I wanted to stop in. I just wanted to check on you two. I know Tony was very upset about what happened. It was all I could to keep him from assigning her an armed guard to follow her everywhere she goes.”  
  
“We both seem to be doing okay. Thank you for asking, ma’am.”  
  
“You know if there’s anything Tony or I can do, all you have to do is ask.”  
  
Steve nodded. “You two have been more than generous with me. I...”  
  
Pepper waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it. We enjoy having you around. We enjoy having you here.”  
  
“I was, uh... thinking I might ask Darcy if she would move in with me.”  
  
Pepper raised her eyebrows, nonplussed at the change of topic. “Moving kind of quick, huh? It’s only been a couple of months. Then again, Tony and I danced around for ten years, so my perspective of time tends to be... skewed.”  
  
“I just don’t want to wait too long and miss our chance.”  
  
“Just be careful you’re not jumping the gun in the name of grabbing happiness when you can,” Pepper said. “Sometimes the wait is worth it. On that note, I’m going to go wrangle Tony and send Darcy back home with you. I know she seems to be enjoying herself, but that headache can’t be any fun. A short day won’t kill her. Or Tony, for that matter.”  
  
“Thanks, Pepper. For the advice and... everything else.”  
  
She nodded, and left the room, carefully closing the door behind her.  
  
  
**  
  
Natasha doesn’t remember much about the blackness after the shot. But she remembers a grey room and the feeling of paper against her skin and the unrelenting cold. The way her skin seemed to prickle and stay frozen that way -- that she never could get warm.  
  
They would tell her later that she survived a fever that would have killed most other girls her age, that the doctors had been persuaded to work harder than they normally would have by the presence of a man in the room. A man she had never met before, though he had been watching her with the scientists and the higher-ups. A man with a metal arm and a fractured mind.  
  
She doesn’t remember much of this time, between the shooting and the serum.  
  
But she remembers his hand around her forearm. His breath warm on her face. And his words. “What is coming will hurt like nothing has ever hurt before. It will probably kill you. I hope it does kill you, actually. But if it doesn’t, then you’ll be dealing with me from now on. Keep in mind: I picked you. Don’t you fucking let me down.”  
  
**  
  
Darcy knocked softly on the door of Jane’s lab before she pushed it open and stepped inside. She’d relinquished her position as Jane’s assistant, reluctantly, to a very competent graduate student who actually understood what Jane was talking about. She’d done her best to pass on the Rules and Regulations of Dealing With Jane, but she could see that her lofty advice had been ignored.  
  
Papers were piled, filing systems ignored. Coffee mugs were stacked artfully in towers that would have impressed architecture students, and somewhere in the pile of... stuff, was Dr. Foster. According to Pepper, Dr. Foster on the cusp of a breakthrough. If she would ever let her brain rest long enough to finish the work she’d poured her heart and soul into.  
  
“Jane?” Darcy asked. “Jane, where are you?”  
  
“Under here!” Jane’s voice had a quality she hadn’t heard in a long time. Darcy had never seen a chipmunk on acid. But she imagined that Jane’s voice was pretty much exactly that. She steeled herself for a fight and wished that her head didn’t hurt quite so badly.  
  
Darcy looked under a panel, where Jane was attaching and detaching wires and scribbling something in a notebook. “What are you doing under there?”  
  
“Science,” Jane said stubbornly. “I am doing science under here, and if everyone would just _leave me alone_ I could science the _shit_ out of this, and we could open a portal to another realm. Another _realm,_ Darcy.”  
  
“Yes, I’m quite aware. And also, at that time, you could get laid, and I think we can all agree that _that_ can only be good for your overall health.”  
  
“It’s not just about getting my boyfriend back, Darcy,” Jane said coldly.  
  
“Yes, I know. Science.” Darcy sighed. “Listen, Jane, is there a way we can skip all this?”  
  
“What?” Jane scooted out from underneath the desk.  
  
“You know. The bit where you get all upset with me because I don’t get your true love, and then I gently try to remind you that you have a mortal body which requires, you know, sustenance and sleep and stuff, and eventually you cave to me because, of course, I’m right and besides that’s just basic biology. Let’s skip all that, and you just turn off all this crap and go to bed, yeah? Because according to the logs you haven’t left this lab, except for bathroom breaks,  in two and a half days and it’s starting to smell in here.”  
  
Jane blinked, and her face immediately transformed into a look of concern. “Oh my God, Darcy. Your face. What happened?”  
  
“I got jumped in an alley between here and my apartment,” Darcy said patiently, “which is why I’d like to skip all the stuff I said before and just get you to bed. So that I can, you know. Go to bed as well.”  
  
“Why _aren’t_ you in bed?”  
  
“Tony’s incapable of making a decent cup of coffee, filing anything, diplomacy, or basic human interaction eighty-nine percent of the time. I had to come in to work.”  
  
Jane frowned. “You need to take care of yourself, Darcy.”  
  
“I’m very good at that,” Darcy said with a smile. “Having been responsible for that from a very young age. You, on the other hand, still have to have an adult enforce a bedtime.”  
  
Jane’s mouth quirked up in a smile. “I... guess. I can grab a quick nap. It might help my productivity levels.”  
  
“Just imagine what you could accomplish if you _showered,_ ” Darcy said, widening her eyes.  
  
**  
  
  
“So here’s an idea,” Banner said, as he sat across the table from Tony, spearing a piece of broccoli with chop sticks with more brute strength than elegant skill, “regarding the prisoner in the basement.”  
  
“Steve’s friend,” Tony said. “The one he gets puppy dog-eyes over. What was his name? Plucky? Clucky?”  
  
“Bucky,” Bruce said, waving a hand. “And I’ve been thinking. The tesseract -- that’s what wiped Clint, right?”  
  
“Right.”  
  
“So it could be that we could use the tesseract to... unwipe Bucky.”  
  
“One problem: the tesseract is very responsibly located in Asgard.”  
  
“Hm. That would be more problematic, if Jane Foster wasn’t two days away, at most, from rebuilding the Rainbow Bridge.”  
  
Tony looked up in shock. “She is?”  
  
“Do you have an allergy to reading the reports your people send you?”  
  
“If there’s an important development, someone usually calls me.”  
  
Bruce shook his head. “It’s a wonder to me that your company still functions. And then I remember that wonder has a name, and it’s Pepper Potts.”  
  
“Damn straight, gentleman,” Potts herself said, as she entered the lab with her own takeout.  
  
“Potts! When did you get back?” Tony stood up rapidly and extended his arms. Bruce averted his eyes as Pepper and Tony said hello. A quick embrace, a quick kiss, hands and bodies casually touching. The usual jealousy flared up in the back of his mind, but Bruce batted the Hulk away. The Hulk was the reason they couldn’t have nice things. Like stable relationships with leggy brunette scientists.  
  
“Just a few hours ago. I let you work for a while. I had some things I wanted to take care of.”  
  
“I have some things I want to... _take care of_ ,” Tony said, wiggling his eyebrows.  
  
“You’re working,” Pepper said, gesturing to Bruce. “And I want to sit here and listen to you work.”  
  
“My genius turns you on. Admit it.”  
  
Pepper rolled her eyes. “Yes, Tony. I’m so hot for you I can’t hardly stand it. Say electron one more time. Oh baby, oh baby.”  
  
“I can’t tell if you’re serious right now or not.”  
  
“We were just discussing Dr. Foster’s progress on her research,” Bruce said, stepping in between them before they spontaneously erupted into... sex. Or something.  
  
“Very exciting. Dr. Foster has been gently convinced that she needs to get some rest, though. Pushing her initial estimate back by about eight hours,” Pepper said.  
  
“Excuse me. If we were close to fixing the Einstein-Rosen bridge, why did no one call me?”  
  
Pepper looked at him blankly. “You were handed a report.”  
  
“I don’t read reports.”  
  
“Maybe you should start.”  
  
“Did Lewis read this report?” Tony asked.  
  
“I believe it was filed after her... incident, yesterday,” Pepper said.  
  
“Anyone seen Steve since then? He seems like the kind of guy that might, you know, react badly to something like that,” Bruce said.  
  
“He’s fine,” Pepper and Tony said in unison.  
  
“Well,” Bruce said after a pause. “That’s good to know. So. Tesseract? With a link to Asgard, we could at least investigate it as a possibility.”  
  
Tony hmmed. “It can’t hurt. But we don’t say anything to Steve until we have something solid, right? Guy’s had enough ‘almosts’ for one lifetime.”  
  
“Agreed.” Pepper and Bruce nodded.  
  
**  
  
There’s nothing to do in the cell. They provide piles of books, of course, but then the Soviets used to do that too. Props. Stage material. Fodder for the crap that would shove in his brain, when they pulled some of him out.  
  
“Patchwork man, full of seams. Rip them out and see his smile beam.” Bucky lay on his back and studied the ceiling. This particular ceiling had four slightly-brown spots, two yellow spots, a green spot near the window which did not bode well for the building’s waterproofing. He drew patterns with his finger, seeing what words he could fit between the brown spots, how tiny he would have to make the letters to write Listen children and you will hear of the midnight ride of Paul Revere.  
  
Being around all of these Americans, with their grating smiles and their loud voices and their lack of courtesy and their opulence when people in Russia are...  
  
No. Not right.  
  
He’s Bucky Barnes. He likes being around these Americans, who smile even when it sucks, who still, somehow, have an optimistic outlook on life. He likes having a pillow that is comfortable, sheets that are soft.  
  
But he is The Winter Soldier. And he does not belong here.  
  
He reaches under his mattress, retrieves the spoon. Soon it will be sharp enough. Making the shiv reminds him, halfway, of a girl he once loved. Blood-red hair. They used to rip her apart, too, put her back together. New person every time. Same body, same soul. Same look in her eyes when their lips would meet for that first time.  
  
They let him remember.  
  
He never could figure out why.  
  
**  
  
  
It takes Thor a goodly amount of time to traverse the rocky path down to the sea cave to see his brother. It is a cage of Odin’s making. One designed to hold. And one designed to punish. It has few luxuries: it is cold (good for an ice giant, bad for an Asgardian who might, on occasion, forget to pack an extra cloak), and he is allowed a hot meal once a day, and a fire at night.  
  
During the day, the sea water rose up until, to remain dry, Loki stood on his tiptoes for hours on end, until the tide drifted away. If he slipped, the tide would burn his skin, branding it like an iron.  
  
Thor jumped from the rocks into the small boat which he rowed carefully to the cave entrance. The tide is rolling out, so it takes extra effort, but at least this way he won’t have to see his brother in so much pain.  
  
As soon as he saw the glow of the flames, he slowed down, approaching cautiously. Odin had assured him over and over again that Loki’s magic was useless in this trap, but Thor had been taken in too many times by Loki’s trickery.  
  
“I see you, brother,” Loki said, his voice tinged with exhaustion and bitterness. “Come to give me my daily bread, I see.”  
  
“I am the only one I trust with this task,” Thor said easily. “As I believe several of the others would gladly poison you.”  
  
“Truly, you are too kind to me,” Loki said with a bow. “Just toss it somewhere. I will scarf it down when you take your leave. Like the animal our father has reduced me to being.”  
  
Thor felt a twinge of pity but shoved it back down. “It is only until he feels you have truly learned your lesson and feel remorse for what you have done.”  
  
“Then I shall remain here for a very, very long time. And you shall have to paddle that ridiculous contraption here every night. Perhaps for the remainder of our lives.”  
  
Thor scoffed. “I doubt that, little brother.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Mother asks after you.”  
  
“Tell her I am very ill indeed.” Loki’s eyes sparkled with something like mirth, however. “Tell her of the words the water carves in my skin. Traitor, traitor. Murderer. Thief. Liar. But you won’t, will you?”  
  
“No. I shall tell her that you make progress.” Thor settled himself to leave again. “Just as I tell her every night. I cannot bear you to break her heart again.”  
  
“Hah,” Loki said. “You would lie to our mother?”  
  
“To spare her pain, I believe I would do much worse,” Thor said evenly. “She rocked you in her arms. Put you to sleep at night. Loved you as one of her own, and yet you still persist in throwing this... adolescent fit.”  
  
Loki turned from, instantly cold. Unapproachable. “Goodnight, Thor Odinsson.”  
  
“Be well, brother.”  
  
The journey back to the palace was solitary and long. Just the way Thor liked it. Without Loki in the picture, as the only heir, he was constantly besieged by people. Wanting to help or wanting his help. He had little time to sit and ponder the stars and wonder if Jane Foster was thinking of him the way he was thinking of her.  
  
“Thor! It is good that you are here!” Syf said, running out the palace door as soon as he arrived. “Heimdall says he has news of your lady, Jane.”  
  
Thor couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face, or the war whoop that escaped his lips.  
  
  
**  
  
Loki sat in his prison cell, contemplating the food Thor had given him with a look of contempt. Finally, he surrended his pride and called out in a defeated voice.  
  
“Thanos. Thanos. I beseech thee. Please. I would give anything. End this, please.”

**Author's Note:**

> I keep forgetting to mention that you can find me on Tumblr as well! Chi-stories.tumblr.com


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